In orbit, Stigma-Starport:

[i]The Heavy Hand[/i] rested quietly in its slipway with nary a crewmember stirring, aside from an overworked technician as she fumed at the star-drive for not being nearly as precise as advertised, leading to yet another maintenance-inspection. The simplest answer was that the fuel was somehow becoming tainted; somewhere between the storage-tanks and the drive itself... but actually locating and purging this source of [i]bad luck[/i] was going to be another matter, especially since she wasn't going to tear the ship apart just because they haven't jumped to within 200 km of their destination in over a year.

Meanwhile, deeper upon the station, she figured Isaac Dawes was likely trying to get another 'good deal' on refined drive-fuel from his usual sources while their glorious leader was off planetside getting her latest 'fix'.